


Dionysus, Reborn

by SkyPiglet



Series: 100% AmberField Fluff [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, amberfield, pure Amberfield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyPiglet/pseuds/SkyPiglet
Summary: “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Max is the sun.”Rachel sneaks into Max's room one night. But what starts out as a cute, romantic evening takes a turn into something else. Because Rachel has damage. A lot of it.Rated "mature" because it gets steamy, but isn't quite smut.(This work can be read separately from the rest of the series.)
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Maxine "Max" Caulfield
Series: 100% AmberField Fluff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161197
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Dionysus, Reborn

_♫_ _Madnap – Love is Awake (feat. Late Night Alumni)_ _♫_

_Klik. Klack._

Max awakens in the night to a sharp clatter against her dorm window. She lays in bed for a minute, trying to see if she imagined it, but the noise returns, a sporadic thing with no discernible rhythm.

_Clack. Thunk. Klik, klik._

She rubs the sleep from her eyes, groaning, and rolls out of bed. She’d been in the middle of the best dream ever, a beach vacation with the Hawt Dog Man and Bongo, Chloe’s childhood cat, and she resents the interruption. She stumbles to the window to see what all the fuss is about, unlatching the lock, then pulling it open.

Under her window, half hidden by the bushes and darkness, she spots the telltale blue of a feather earring.

“Ra— Rachel? What are you—"

“—but soft!” Rachel muses, in her best Shakespearean lilt, “what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Max is the sun.”

Max chuckles, grinning like a dork. “O Rachel, my Rachel! Wherefore art thou Rachel? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Caulfield.”

Rachel laughs, and Max swears, that voice is the sun, not her.

“Bravo,” Rachel claps, “bravo! I had no idea I was dating such a talented little starlet.”

“We did Romeo and Juliet in sixth grade! I was but a humble Chorus member, though.”

“Still, color me impressed.”

Max bows. “Thank you, my adoring public of one.”

“Two, actually. Psst, Chloe!” Rachel waves at the bushes, and Chloe emerges, leaves and twigs tangled in her hair, carrying a metal ladder over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe says, unfolding the ladder. “You’re lucky you two are so cute. I should be sleeping right now.”

“But Chloe,” Rachel croons, “you would have missed Max’s enthralling performance!”

“That’s true,” Chloe admits, setting the ladder under Max’s window. “You got some real acting chops, Max.”

“C—Chloe…Rachel…” Max stammers, “you did all this for me?”

“Anything for you,” Rachel smiles, scaling the ladder, “I missed my dear little deer so much, I just _had_ to see her. Also, I bribed Chloe.” She tosses a plastic baggie back down at Chloe, who stashes it under her beanie.

“I mean,” Chloe shrugs, “I would have done this for free. But the weed is a plus.”

At the top of her climb, Rachel pulls Max in for a long, deep kiss. Max blushes, leaning into the summer air, as Rachel’s tongue banishes any thoughts of sleep she still had.

“Hey Amber,” Chloe yells, “nice ass!”

Rachel flips her off, still kissing Max.

* * *

“Thanks again, Chloe!” Max shouts, shutting the window, as Chloe gives a thumbs up and dashes off into the night with her ladder.

“So…” Max says, turning to face Rachel, “…Hi.”

“Hi,” Rachel replies, suddenly not so confident. She crosses her arms around herself, staring at the floor.

“Are you okay, Rach?”

“…not really.”

Max takes Rachel’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

Rachel shivers. “Hold me?” She pleads, looking over at the bed.

“Always.”

Max climbs back in bed, pulling Rachel in with her. Rachel lays her head on Max's chest, clinging onto her, as Max wraps the blanket tight around them. They stay like that for a while, listening to the chirping crickets outside, as their breaths fall into sync. Max draws swirling patterns on Rachel's back with her fingers, tracing out _I love you, I love you,_ again and again.

"Your heart's beating so fast," Rachel says.

"It always does when i'm worried about you."

"Do you worry about me a lot?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

Rachel lets out a low hum, satisfied with the answer.

"I didn’t just want to see you tonight, Max. I _needed_ you.”

Max takes Rachel’s hand in hers, looking her in the eyes. “I’m here. It’s okay, Rach.”

Rachel smiles— or tries to, at least. “I had a bad dream. A really bad one."

"What happened?"

"Remember when I told you about that week Chloe and I first met? How I accidentally started that huge fire? I was back there again, standing under that tree, screaming, the world burning around me, the smoke seeping into my clothes, my hair, my eyes, my lungs. Everything. But instead of Chloe, you were there beside me. And the look on your face...you were scared of me, max."

Max squeezes Rachel closer. "I'm not afraid of you, Rachel. I've only ever been nervous around you because I like you so much. Never afraid. Not even once."

"I started that fire, Max. I burned down so many homes...maybe even killed people, and animals, too. I murdered them. I ruined all those lives."

"It was an accident. It's not your fault, you didn't know it would spread like that."

"But I wanted it to. I felt so betrayed, and so angry. I wanted to burn it all down. I wanted the whole town to turn to ash, and everyone with it, too.”

Max kisses the top of Rachel’s head. “You’re just one person, Rach. We can’t know where our actions will lead, or where they’ll take us. No reasonable person could have expected all of that to happen.”

“But—”

“—you’re not someone who hurts people, Rachel. I know you’d never do that on purpose.”

Rachel deflates with a long, low sigh. “Yeah. You’re right, Max.”

“You’re a good person. I mean it. Pinky swear and everything,” Max says, sticking out her pinky.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. But thank you,” Rachel replies, hooking her pinky with Max’s.

The night seems to calm then, the darkness more a blanket of warmth surrounding them than a cold shroud. Rachel melts into Max’s body, their curves meeting in all the right places. _She’s so soft_ , Rachel thinks. _Has she always been this soft?_ She closes her eyes, breathing in that cider and cedar buzz that seems to follow Max wherever she goes, like a really gay sweater she never wants to take off.

“Goddd, Max,” Rachel says, dizzy with love, “has anyone ever told you that you’re like, hella cozy?”

Max giggles. “I could say the same about you, you know.”

“You’re on a whole other level, though. I mean, are you made from couches or something? Part beanbag chair?”

“Maybe you should look inside me,” Max teases, “and see what I’m really made of.”

Rachel hoists herself up, planting her arms on either side of Max’s head. Her hair cascades down, an intoxicating canopy of blonde and jasmine. In the dark, Rachel’s honey eyes are dark orbs, sucking her in, devouring her body with unspoken desire. Her eyes pan down, stopping at Max’s lips (Rachel licking her own), then dip lower and lower…if Max’s heart had once slowed, it’s now thumping like a hummingbird again.

“Wows—"

Rachel puts a finger to Max’s lips, shushing her. “You know,” she whispers with a wicked smile, “you shouldn’t say things like that. I might take you up on the offer.”

Rachel leans in for a kiss, but in that moment, a sharp grimace crosses her face.

“Fuck!” She exclaims as her left arm seizes. She grips at it in pain, collapsing beside Max on the bed. 

“Rachel! What’s wrong?” Max’s heart somersaulting as she comes to her side, holding her with the lightest touch, unsure if she’ll make things worse.

The spasm subsides within seconds, leaving Rachel gasping for breath, but the pain continues to throb, radiating through her arm like a thousand dull splinters.

“Hah…” Rachel pants. “I guess…you should be the top...in this relationship.”

“Rachel? What was that? Are you okay?”

“Max,” Rachel says, wiping the sweat from her brow, “can I show you something?”

* * *

In all of Max’s wildest fantasies of seeing Rachel Amber shirtless, she never thought it would be like this— a pale ghost sitting in her bed, framed by the fairy lights and polaroids, breathless from pain, holding herself like a lost kitten.

"It’s been years since…this,” Rachel says, gingerly touching the bright, jagged, three-inch chasm of a scar that splits the top of her left arm in two, “but it still hurts sometimes.”

Max sits beside Rachel, cradling her head on her shoulder. “What happened?” She asks.

Rachel recounts the full story of the week she met Chloe. The real story— of learning about her birth mom, and the lengths her father went to stop them from meeting. She tells Max about the encounter with Damon Merrick in the junkyard, how he plunged his knife into her arm, sending Chloe on a mad race with her to the ER, and how Chloe finally found Sera, barely escaping death thanks to Frank Bowers. She tells her about the truth of her father.

When Rachel finishes, she isn’t crying— just quiet, withdrawn inside herself in a way that Max has never seen before. In that moment, there’s no patented Rachel Amber mystique, no grand illusion of control, of a larger-than-life queen who rules over her domain with precision and poise. All that remains is a sad, scared girl who’s been through more than Max could ever comprehend.

“Rachel…” Max says.

Rachel looks at Max, her normally bright eyes a burnt caramel. “Max…”

“None of that was your fault. You tried your best to find the truth, the answers that you deserve. And I’m so fucking glad you’re still here.”

Rachel shrinks into Max’s arms, finally allowing herself to cry—first in small hiccups, then long, full-body sobs. Max coccoons her body around her girlfriend, doing her damndest to keep her safe from the world.

“You don’t hate me?” Rachel asks. 

“No,” Max says, tussling her hair, “of course not. I love you, Rachel.”

“I love you, Max.” Rachel pats her scar, sniffling. “You don’t think it’s gross?”

“Never. Every bit of you is so, so beautiful.”

Max plants a kiss on Rachel’s hand, then another at her wrist, and continues up her arm, arriving at her scar. “May I?” She asks.

Rachel nods, blushing.

Max kisses the length of her scar, careful not to press too hard. She explores the story of the scar with her lips— the initial, burning trauma of the knife, and the blood that flowed from it into a clot. She sees the stitches that once held Rachel together— gone now, absorbed into her body by white blood cells and time. Max kisses every bump and ridge, every wrinkled, uneven piece of the girl she loves, taking photographs with her eyes.

As Max continues exploring her scar, the stinging ache that once filled Rachel’s arm disappears, replaced with a different feeling— a pleasant tingling, like being tickled by a feather. She’s reminded of a petting zoo she visited as a child, long ago, where she met a small, brown, striped piglet. It rubbed up against her hand, pushing its snout into her palm like it was digging for treasure. Those tiny baby hairs felt like a cloud against her skin.

Rachel giggles, both from the sensation in her arm, and her vision of Max as a piglet. Max smiles at her, still kissing, eyes glittering like a sun-splashed ocean, as heat spreads through Rachel’s entire body.

“O Romeo, O Romeo…” Rachel whispers.

They both burst into laughter, Max rolling back on the bed, breathless. When she’s with Max, Rachel can’t help but laugh. She lets it all out, laughing at herself, at the two of them, and at the world. She laughs, happy that she made it all the way to now, to this perfect moment with _her._ It’s as much of a relief as crying five minutes ago.

Max finally catches her breath. “Oh my dog, Rachel. You are such a dork.”

“You know you love it.”

“I love _you_.”

“I love you, my Romeo. My Max. Kiss me more?” Rachel winks, and it’s then that she decides to go for it, to let her in, one hundred percent. Her hands still trembling, she reaches back, unclasping her bra.

Max’s eyes widen with nervousness, but Rachel’s smile, so bright and full of love, fill her with liquid courage. She dives back in, tossing the bra aside.

And as Max kisses down the length of Rachel’s chest, and Rachel’s body— scar included— fills with warm honey, she thinks to herself: _Wow._

_I was right._

_Max really is the sun._


End file.
